


The Skylark and the Turtle Egg

by Umi (umichii)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Barn Animals fic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umichii/pseuds/Umi
Summary: A skylark gravely injured by a stray owl never thought it’ll take refuge in an old barn, and end up being wooed by it.(Seriously, you'd want to stay until the very end.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written as my contribution to the KHR Fairy Tale Anthology. I got the prompt, The Princess and the Pea. 
> 
> No owls or horses were harmed in the making of this fic.

A lone skylark prince wakes up from its nest high above a sturdy green tree, scratching its head with a feathered wing tip. Slowly, it takes in the sight of its land, the great expanse of Namimori, and decides now is a good time to start its round.   
  
With ease, it spreads its wing to its fullest then takes flight, soaring across the never-ending sky, piercing through the aloft clouds.   
  
It continues on like that, the skylark secretly enjoying its morning routine as it watches carefully over every person in town, from the wealthy mayor to the frail boy tending his barn. Then finally, as the morning dew dissipates from the meadow, the princely bird lands on a tree branch, its wings fluttering a little before resting them against its side. Dark eyes blink once before drooping, tailfeathers twitching slightly.  
  
The skylark enjoys its peace, or the very little of it as suddenly, a creature of the dark hoots deep within its cave in the great tree, mismatched eyes gazing at the skylark too intently that the skylark snaps its head at the fiend and _glared_.  
  
The creature of darkness then leaps forward, feet hopping on the branch before finding purchase a few inches away from the skylark. Its hoot unnerves the skylark terribly, but the skylark maintains its calmness. The great, white owl’s mismatched eyes have belied anything sincere (or the lack thereof) at first glance.  
  
 _“Such pleasure to see you again, o’songbird forever in solitude.”_ The owl twists its head, twitching it as it reaches its farthest point, before turning back again to stare at the skylark prince.   
  
And the skylark is sure that if only this crazy owl isn’t as crazy as it really is (or even ignorant, for that matter), it would have noticed the murderous glare the skylark just made.   
  
Long ago, if the skylark still dares to remember it correctly, there is such a mass of feather and stupidity existing in one single body that dares to breach the skylark’s territory, afterwhich the offending creature wreaks havoc, leaving much to be cleaned. It is due to such event that the skylark has come to despise said creature. It enrages the skylark even more that is has fallen prey, yet again, to this demonic fiend that never stops fooling everyone, and that it never seems to stop being baited by the demonic owl’s trap.  
  
 _“Don’t be so remorseful again, sweet friend—”_  
  
The skylark instantly lashes out a wing, causing the owl to take a hop backwards. The latter then pauses, before smiling in mirth as much as its eyes could permit.   
  
_“Yes, I can clearly see you miss me, after all.”_  
  
The skylark doesn’t say another word anymore. It only charges at the owl, baring its talons and letting it pierce soft, white feathers, cheering at the feel of bones and flesh crunching—  
  
Until it loses its balance to gravity, a wing searing in indescribable pain, white flashing before its eyes. Everything swirls around it, and before the blue sky becomes green grass then darkness, the skylark encircles the first name in its Idiots to Kill list, vowing the very extinction of the entire _Strigiformes_ race.  
  
  


*

  
  
  
The sky has been painted brown by the time it opens its eyes. Not to mention there seems to be a lot of long, thin, black lines on it, equal distances apart from each other. For a moment, the skylark recalls what happened—then bolts upright the moment it remembers, if only it isn’t sporting a bandaged wing.   
  
Startled, and definitely furious, the skylark glares at the offending piece of white material wrapped around its black streaked wing, then winces when the slight movement forced a shot of pain. Nevertheless, this only makes the skylark even angrier.  
  
 _“Ah, you’re awake,”_ a deep voice from the ground below startles the skylark. Peering down from the nest the skylark realizes as not its own (and quite poorly constructed, if it has to admit), the skylark finds a huge white stallion looking up.   
  
_“Where am I, herbivore?”_ The skylark asks—no, it _demands_ , as it stares down at the great stallion. _“What is this place you’ve brought me into?”_  
  
The stallion smiles at the skylark, neighing in mirth. _“You’re in the Vongola barn, dear friend.”_  
  
 _“Don’t you dare call me such, you herbivore. I am a prince of my land.”_  
  
 _“Then I’m a king,”_ the stallion returns, lifting its head of golden hair to pay its attention on the wounded skylark. Again, the stallion neighs gaily, to which the skylark responds to with an angry chirp.   
  
_“Vongola is the family that shall now care for you, sweet songbird.”_  
  
 _“As if it actually can,”_ the skylark scoffs loudly. Then, standing straighter, as much as its wounded wing can permit, it declares to the stallion, _“No one can rule me.”  
  
“Then tell that to whomever it is that has harmed you such. You fell from the sky with broken wing, and if it wasn’t for the Vongola’s boy, you would’ve become the cat’s breakfast.”_  
  
The skylark doesn’t answer for a long while. Instead, it watches the stallion carefully, with the most critical eye, before finally, it turns away and returns to the warmth of its temporary nest. But it doesn’t stop itself from asking, _“Are you not of the Vongola?”  
  
“No,”_ the stallion answers without much thought, its head turning away as the yellow mane follows gracefully. _“I am merely a visitor here. Until my master returns, I stay here.”  
  
“You truly are a herbivore then. You are a shame to all us who’re royalty.”  
  
“True,”_ the stallion admits, but not without another smile towards the skylark. _“For only the strong can follow the weak.”_  
  
And this the skylark hears not, for it allows sleep to take rein.   
  
  


*

  
  
  
The skylark prince wakes up to the sound of crashing. When it looks down from its bed, there is a boy on the ground below, a bucket covering his head. The white stallion shakes his head before nudging the boy with its head, as if prompting him to stand up.   
  
“Ah, I’m sorry,” the boy apologizes to the barn animals, and this perturbs the skylark greatly. Just how low are the residents here in this so-called Vongola barn? The wild, messy brown head of the boy only makes the skylark frown in distaste.  
  
“I’m really no good. I can’t understand why Reborn even bothers,” he hears the boy rambles to no one in particular, and for a very short moment, the skylark wonders if this boy has the habit of talking to animals that wouldn’t even answer to his woes.  
  
“But it’s okay,” the boy continues on, now back up on his feet, combing the stallion’s hair. “King Cavallone is here, and he says he’s going to help shape me up.”   
  
The bird hops onto the edge of its nest in alarm. It glares at the stallion below, who has its eyes closed, feigning ignorance.  
  
 _“Herbivore,”_ the skylark accuses the stallion.   
  
_“All horses are, little prince,”_ the stallion says in turn, not minding the skylark as the latter demands. _“Now question is, how true a prince are you?”_  
  
Such insinuation! Despite its handicap, the skylark forces itself to fly down and give the horse a piece of its mind. But alas, it only lasts for five seconds in air before it plummets downward, saved from meeting hay-covered ground by a pair of small, coarse hands.   
  
The skylark instantly leaps onto its feet, hopping around as if berating the boy for daring to touch him.   
  
“Aren’t you a hyper one,” the boy muses, and hearing that much amusement coming from this silly human only annoys the skylark prince, and even more when it realized what the boy has actually said. “You shouldn’t fly for a while, birdie, especially when your wing is healing.”  
  
 _“How dare he?!”_ The skylark screeches at the boy, yet the human hears naught a word the skylark throws. Then slowly, the boy puts the skylark down.   
  
On the stallion’s back.  
  
 _“You’ve got to be kidding me,”_ the skylark almost says, but it holds back its tongue before it could even pull another witty response from the stallion it’s now resting on. The latter only neighs and the prince have no idea if it’s out of exasperation or amusement.  
  
  


*

  
  
  
_“I want to return to my nest,”_ the skylark finally says after the boy leaves the barn.   
  
_“Ah, but it’s too high for me to reach.”_ The stallion tells the prince. Irritated, the prince buries a sharp talon into the stallion back, and poor stallion, it could only neigh in pain for fear of throwing the skylark into the hard earth  
  
 _“You’re not only a herbivore but useless as well.”  
  
“Shall an apology satisfy the prince then?”  
  
“Your disappearance will,”_ the skylark mutters to itself, but it knows its words can’t escape the stallion’s keen sense of hearing.   
  
_“There is a haystack there. Shall I put there instead?”_ The stallion suggests.   
  
The skylark looks up from its perch, and following the direction of the stallion’s head, it finds a tall haystack against the wall, a window above it. Enough sunlight shines through the glass, and it looks quite comfortably soft.   
  
_“It’ll do better than your stupid back.”_ The skylark agrees.   
  
Much to its surprise, the stallion walks slowly, _carefully_ , towards the haystack before lowering itself so the skylark can hop to the haystack without falling to the ground. The skylark prince then decides it’ll enact the most painful revenge on that crazy, demon spawn of a bird.  
  
The skylark moves around for a while around the haystack, finding the right spot to rest. After a good six hop, it finally settles down on the new nest made on top of the haystack, and the skylark stays there in silence, napping.  
  
Until the stallion nudges its head against the skylark. The latter returns with a sharp peck, hoping against all hopes it manages to poke an eyeball out.   
  
_“Must you be insufferable, you herbivore?”_  
  
The stallion chuckles, golden mane shaking in laughter.  
  
 _“Nay, sweet songbird, I merely wish to hear you sing.”_  
  
“Such wish is below me to grant. Now leave me be.”  
  
“Pity,” was the last word it hears from the white stallion before the prince turns away, facing the wall, burying its head between its two wings to nap.  
  
  


*

  
  
  
A foolish swallow once told the skylark the latter sleeps too much, to which the skylark answers with a sharp peck of the beak to somewhere that will hurt very much. Then again, such obvious display of violence never stops the swallow from telling the skylark such comment every now and then. Oh, how the skylark wishes the swallow is here so the skylark can prove its stupid neighbor wrong.   
  
No matter how the skylark twists around in its nest, or how it buries its head between the warmth of its wings, it just can’t find the right spot. For once, the skylark is surprised a good night’s sleep is impossible.   
  
A peek at the sleeping white stallion below only infuriates the skylark.  
  
 _“That useless herbivore did this on purpose!”_  
  
Before the moon steals the night away, the skylark prince adds another name to its list of Idiots to Kill, just second to that crazy demon spawn of a bird.  
  
  


*

  
  
  
By the time the sun reaches the sky, the clouds turning puffy white, the skylark has already cursed the stallion over a million times in its long course of wake. And when the stallion rises from its deep slumber, the skylark makes sure the first thing the latter will see is a good pair of glaring, murderous eyes.  
  
 _“You’re going to be dead meat,”_ the skylark promises in vehemence. _“Once this wing is healed, I’m going to make sure you’re_ dead.”  
  
The stallion blinks in surprise, as if it has no idea what’s going on, and this only made the skylark prince angrier. _“Whatever have I done to you, dear prince?”  
  
“You put me here so I can not rest, so you can laugh at me.”  
  
“Such accusations are too false, sweet songbird.”_  
  
If only birds can roar, the skylark would’ve done so already. But it couldn’t, so it only settles on a sharp screech that hopefully will make the horse drop down dead.  
  
Who is it again who said horses have tough hides?  
  
 _“If it is not you, then what else, you stupid horse,”_ the princely bird hisses, hoping yet again the horse will disappear from the face of the world in the next two seconds. Or that a butcher will suddenly arrive and pull the stupid stallion away and make horse dish out of this stupid four-legged creature with hair.  
  
 _“I don’t know, dear prince, but now that you mention it, I do remember a mother turtle once took shelter on that same haystack last winter.”_  
  
The skylark, as usual whenever it’s startled, hops onto the highest part of the haystack and gives the stallion a good stare.   
  
_“A mother turtle, you say?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“Give me your back. Now, herbivore.”_  
  
And without another word, as if for the sake of humoring the skylark, the stallion gives its back for the skylark to perch on. Then, the skylark turns around, peering down beyond the stallion’s head. The stallion follows the bird’s gaze, and then it neighs its loudest laugh as the skylark stares at the cause of its unrest for the entire night.  
  
 _“Unbelievable!”_ The stallion chuckles, its head turning slightly to check on the stupefied skylark, for at the very bottom of the haystack, wrapped by the straws was a large, hard ball, and upon closer look one could say it’s an egg, yet much larger than a chicken’s.  
  
 _“It’s an egg.”  
  
“Ah, the mother turtle must have left it there.”  
  
“It’s an_ egg _.”_  
  
“Yes, I’ve heard that the first time, sweet songbird.”  
  
“You’re going to die, herbivore.”  
  
  


*

  
  
  
“And then after much debate and argument and pecking, the skylark finally agrees to keep the turtle as its new companion, a constant reminder of the great, white stallion.” Dino finishes with a bright smile as he closes the storybook on hand.  
  
Kyouya glares at the stupid foreigner sitting next to the hospital bed with much fervor.   
  
“Did you actually think I’ll miss all those allusions, Cavallone?”  
  
“I’m actually hoping you’ll get the hint, Kyouya.”  
  
“I’m going to bite you to _death_ , Bucking Horse, once I’m out of this bed.”  
  
Then Dino sweeps down and plants a soft kiss on top of Kyouya’s head, dodging a quick swipe of a tonfa just in time.  
  
He laughs and Kyouya bristles, swearing the death of the Cavallone Decimo.   
  
“I have to go now, Kyouya,” Dino announces, a smile still set on his face. “I’ll be seeing Tsuna for a while. Now don’t leave without the doctor’s permission again.”  
  
Kyouya only watches the blonde leave, the door closing softly. It amazes him at most time, his own ability to deal with this insufferable foreigner.  
  
With eyes shut, Kyouya prepares himself for another nap, and without his knowing, the slightest of smile stretches his lips.  
  
Until his eyes snap open to find an ugly snapping turtle nibbling his finger.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTHING CAN EVER GO WRONG WITH FLUFF AND BARN ANIMALS OK. I honestly can’t believe writing this is a really, really huge problem. It took me so many drafts, so many days and so many sweat and brain cells just to be able to come up with something that I don’t know will even work. ;A; (also I may be a bit desperate to not become that fandom writer who only writes sad angst and make bad stuff happen to our favorite characters or worse, kill them and bury them literally.)


End file.
